The Good Neighbors

by Kiersten Modglin

  “What? No. I thought we were going to stay away from them?”

  “Why?” she demanded. “I thought we were okay now? Tori and Jason are our friends. I don’t want to have to avoid them and make things awkward.” She knew the awkwardness would all fall on her. Bryant had a way of pleasing everyone, while she accepted the brunt of the responsibility for letting people down. It had always been the dynamic of their relationship. She was the bad news deliverer, the canceller of plans, and the holder of all ‘maybe next times.’

  “I don’t want to hang out with them, Harp. They aren’t like us.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Come on, you know what I mean. They’re nothing like the friends we’ve had before.”

  “I mean, they’re a little older. Richer, for sure. But, so what? They like us, we like them. I’m not saying we need to be best friends, but there’s no reason we can’t spend time with them. The more we get to know them, the more comfortable the whole situation will be.”

  “I said no,” Bryant said firmly.

  “You aren’t the boss of me, dude,” she said through gritted teeth. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want. But I am. I actually like Tori, and I don’t want to hurt either of their feelings.”

  “Fine, whatever. I’ll go.”

  “Don’t do me any favors,” she said hatefully. “You’ve been acting so weird lately.”

  He let out a sigh. “We’ll just talk about it later, okay?”

  “Yeah, fine.” She hung up the phone without saying goodbye. “But I’m still going,” she said, long after he was gone.

  Twenty-Six

  Harper

  When Harper arrived at home, Bryant was just coming out of the shower. He ran a towel through his hair on the way out of the bathroom, greeting her casually. “Hey babe,” he said.

  “Hey,” she told him. “Have a good day?” She wanted to wait and see if he’d bring up the fight, though she was sure he wouldn’t. Bryant was never one for confrontation. He’d much rather brush things under the rug than ever have to discuss them.

  “Yeah, it was fine. How was yours?” He walked back from the laundry room, offering her a glass of white wine and a kiss.

  “Thank you,” she said, taking the glass. “It was okay. I’m just exhausted. My feet are killing me.”

  “Sit down,” he said, taking her bag. “Hey, did you adjust the speed on the shower head?”

  “What?”

  “It was on full force when I got in. I usually keep it on the middle setting. Do you like the highest?”

  She shook her head, taking another drink. “I didn’t touch the shower head. You must’ve.”

  “No,” he said, hanging her bag up on the coat rack. “It wasn’t me.”

  “Well, it had to be you,” she said adamantly, “because I don’t ever pay attention to the settings.”

  He stared at the television, appearing to be thinking before inhaling deeply. “I’ll bet you did it on accident when you cleaned it Saturday.”

  “You haven’t showered since then?”

  He frowned, propping his feet up next to hers. “I just probably didn’t notice. No big deal.”

  She nodded, resting her head on his chest. “What’s for dinner?” she asked. “I’m starving.”

  “I put a tenderloin in,” he said. “I figured we’d do salads with it. I think I gained ten pounds in Myrtle Beach.”

  She patted his stomach. “I love you just the way you are,” she teased, wrinkling her nose at him.

  He kissed her head. “Do you ever think about going back?”

  “Going back?” she asked.

  “To Chicago. Do you miss it?”

  She looked up at him, surprised by the question. “Of course I do. More than anything. Why?”

  “I’ve just been thinking about it lately. I don’t know. I miss the city. I mean, Lancaster Mills is fine, but it doesn’t feel like home.”

  “We only just got here, Bryant,” she told him. “No place could feel like home just yet. Did you feel at home in Chicago a month after you moved there?”

  “No, of course not. I just don’t want you to be homesick.”

  “I know,” she said, “and I love you for that. But, I’m okay here. Really, I am. Of course I miss home. And my family. But, we’re okay here, you know? We’re starting somewhere fresh. Plus your job is great, and I get along with the people I work with.” She nodded her head firmly, narrowing her eyes at him. “Life is good here, okay? Don’t worry about me.”

  He kissed her again. “I just want you to be happy,” he told her, their foreheads pressed together.

  “Wherever you are…I’m happy.”

  Twenty-Seven

  Harper

  Harper’s eyes shot open, the noise from her dreams carrying over into the dark night around her. She sat up in bed and stared around the moonlit room. What on earth was going on?

  In the distance, she could distinctly hear music playing. It was a song she didn’t recognize, though it reminded her of the older music her mother had loved when she was a kid. She looked over at her husband, sleeping peacefully despite the impending threat in their home.

  Could the music be coming from outside, though? Her head was still filled with sleep, so it was possible she wasn’t thinking straight. She lifted the covers, nudging him hurriedly.

  “Bryant!” she whispered heatedly. “Bryant wake up!”

  “Hm?” he asked, rolling over and wiping his chin. He sat halfway up. “What is—”

  “Shhhh!” she quieted him. “Do you hear that?”

  He was quiet for a moment, but then his face grew serious, and she knew she wasn’t imagining it. “What is that? Is someone in our house?” he asked.

  “I don’t…I don’t know.” Her rapid breathing was making it increasingly hard to talk. “Should we call the police?” She reached over to the nightstand where her phone was supposed to be and froze. “Bryant…”

  “Mine’s gone, too,” he said, the panic present in his tone more than ever. “Wait here. I’m going to go see what’s going on.”

  “I’m not letting you go by yourself,” she said angrily, grabbing hold of his arm. “What if there’s a robber?”

  He disappeared into the closet, grabbing the baseball bat from the corner. “I’ve got this. If I don’t come back—”

  “Don’t say that—”

  “If I don’t, Harper, you hide until you absolutely can’t anymore.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not letting you go by yourself, Bryant. I’ll go with you.”

  He sighed as the music continued to play, its doo-wop tones taunting them. “Fine. But stay behind me.”

  She nodded, taking hold of his shirt as they walked down the hall and then the stairs cautiously. Her heart thudded so loudly in her chest and ears, she was sure it would drown out the music eventually.

  As they made their way down the stairs, the music grew louder and more clear. They were on the right track. Closing in on the source. But what could it be? If someone had broken in, why would they turn on music to alert them to their presence? It didn’t make any sense. Her thoughts raced, thinking of every dark possibility as they came into the living room. They looked around, the music playing so loudly it drowned out any sound throughout the rest of the house. It was as if they were at a nightclub and they were the only patrons.

  Following the sound, they tiptoed toward the kitchen, Bryant with the bat raised over his head and Harper with tears in her eyes as she clung to his shirt for dear life. She’d seen enough horror movies to know that at some point, their intruder was going to end up behind them, and so she kept checking over her shoulder, picturing the face-off that she was sure would ultimately lead to their death.

  The house looked untouched. Like the night after the Myrtle Beach trip, if not for the obvious signs that someone was in the house, or had been in the house, she would think she’d imagined it. Their electronics remained where they’d left them. Except f
or their phones.

  As they walked into the kitchen, Bryant’s bat lowered. “What the fuck?”

  She peered around his shoulder, staring at what had caught his eye. There, resting on their small dining room table, were their phones, laying side by side and face up. He reached for his slowly, touching the home button and watching it light up to reveal a screen from the Apple Music store. According to the screen, they were listening to “Goodnight Sweetheart” by MC6 A Cappella. Bryant’s shaking thumb pushed the pause button, and the house instantly fell silent as the two lines transformed into a triangle on the screen.

  “What the fuck?” he repeated.

  She shook her head, but she couldn’t summon any words from her throat.

  “Hello?” he called. For a moment, she thought he was being smart with her, but she quickly realized he was calling it out in general, daring their intruder to appear. She looked around the house, her blood running cold as they stood in silence, waiting for anyone to make a sound.

  After a moment, Bryant sighed. “Did we leave our phones down here?”

  “No,” she insisted. “At least…I don’t think so.”

  “We definitely didn’t leave them blasting that music,” he said. “I’ve never even heard that song.”

  “Me either,” she admitted, rubbing her hands over her biceps in an attempt to warm the cold chills that ran deep below the surface.

  “Should we still call the police?” he asked, his eyebrows raised.

  She knew he was thinking the same thing she was. That if they did call the police…again…they needed to have something more to tell them than the fact that someone had broken in, taken their phones, downloaded a song, and played it. They had no proof. No way of knowing anything had happened. But that didn’t stop the fear that had gripped her internal organs with icy fingers.

  “Maybe the house is haunted,” she said, half-joking, but with true horror in her voice.

  “We had to have left the phones, right? Maybe some weird update came through and caused a glitch?”

  “Updates usually wait until the phones are plugged in…”

  Bryant bit his lip. “What do you think, then? What could’ve happened? I really think we should call the cops.”

  She could barely force her words out as every possibility ran through her head. “I agree. I just…what will we say?”

  His expression fell from terrified to hopeless as he stared at his phone. “I have no idea. No one has my passcode, either. Or my thumbprint.”

  Harper shook her head as a chilling vision of the intruder lifting their thumbs in their sleep to access the phones. What would they have had access to? Everything. Too much. Their entire lives were on their phones.

  “I don’t want to look stupid again,” she admitted, feeling foolish. Their lives were more important. She knew that. But were they in danger? Now that the initial adrenaline had calmed a bit, she wasn’t so sure.

  “Do you think one of us could’ve been sleepwalking?”

  She shrugged. “It’s as good a theory as any, I guess.”

  Truth was, no theory made any sense, and they both knew that. But what could they say?

  “What should we do, Harp?” he asked, rubbing her shoulders. “You tell me.”

  She swallowed. “Coffee. Let’s just…let’s make coffee.”

  “Coffee?” he asked, his voice filled with confusion.

  “Well, I’m not planning to sleep anymore tonight.” Her eyes met his. “Are you?”

  “No,” he admitted. “Definitely not.”

  Twenty-Eight

  Harper

  A week later, Harper lay on the couch, sipping on ginger ale. The incident with their phones had been virtually forgotten. Nothing appeared to be touched except for the new addition to Bryant’s song library, and nothing further had happened to cause them concern. But now she was sick, and that seemed to have taken precedence over any worry. She rubbed her stomach, cursing the day she’d ever decided to work in a hospital where the flu ran rampant.

  Her phone chimed with a text message, and it took all of her strength to reach it on the table. She stared at the message from Bryant.

  Checking in. You feeling any better?

  She replied slowly, her fingers moving across the phone’s screen. No…need more ginger ale and saltines on your way home.

  You got it.

  She tossed the phone down beside her, rolling over and trying to focus on the television, which featured some housewives show that annoyed her. The remote was too far out of reach for her to change it, and she didn’t dare sit up, so she tried to suffer through. After a while, even the movement from the screen seemed to make her more nauseous, and so she rolled back over, placing the pillow over her head. This was her third day with the bug, and she was sure she’d never been so miserable.

  A knock sounded on the door, and she couldn’t find the strength to get up. Instead, she lay there, listening to the knocking and praying it would go away quickly. Whoever it was, they didn’t need anything as badly as she needed not to move.

  A third knock came, and she groaned loudly, realizing they weren’t going to go away. She tried to sit up, but felt her stomach lurch from the movement and grabbed the trash can just in time to empty the measly contents of her stomach again.

  “Harper?” She heard his voice through the door. “Are you okay?” It was Jason, and she was mortified that he was listening to her getting sick loudly, though she couldn’t seem to quiet the retching. Suddenly, he was jiggling the door handle, and before she knew it, he was inside. “Oh my god,” he said, rushing in and to her side in an instant. His arms were around her shaking shoulders. “Can I get you something?” he asked, when her stomach finally calmed and she wiped her mouth with a tissue from the box.

  “Water,” she croaked, blotting the corners of her mouth and trying not to cringe at the thought of what she must look like.

  He nodded, walking toward the kitchen quickly. She could hear him opening and shutting the cabinets as he searched for the one with the glasses before he finally turned on the water and returned to her side. “Here you go,” he said, handing her the glass of room-temperature water. “Is it the flu?”

  She shook her head. “I guess so. Perks of working with the public, right?”

  He smiled, giving her a sly wink. “I wouldn’t know. Perks of being a writer.”

  “Do you need something?” she asked, feeling almost instantly better as she stood, desperate to get her bag of vomit as far away from her gorgeous neighbor as possible.

  “I was just coming to check on you. Tori said you were sick on Friday, and she stopped by the hospital today, but they told her you’d called in,” he said, watching her walk down the hall. She stopped in front of the bathroom sink and ran a wet hand through her hair, patting her pale cheeks. She grabbed her pink toothbrush, brushing vigorously to get the terrible taste out of her mouth. When she was done, she sighed. There wasn’t much she could do to improve her haggard appearance in the moments she had before it would be obvious that’s what she was doing.

  “Oh, yeah,” she said, rubbing her stomach as she turned to walk back toward him. “I can’t seem to kick this. Actually, it’s probably a bad idea for you to be here. I’d hate for you to get sick.”

  “Too late now,” he said simply. “Do you want some soup? Is there anything I can help you with?”

  She crossed her arms. “I’m okay,” she assured him. “Really, I am. It seems like once I’ve gotten sick, I’m usually okay for a few hours until it hits me again. Weirdest sickness ever.”

  He nodded. “Well, let me make you some broth to drink. That way you can rest.”

  “Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked.

  “I like taking care of people,” he said simply. “Especially people I care about.”

  “You care about me?” she asked, feeling her pale cheeks burn red.

  “I do,” he said. “You guys are our friends. I’d hope you’d do the same for either o
f us.”

  She nodded. “Of course we would. I hated that I couldn’t come out with Tori on Friday.”

  “To be honest, we thought you might just be blowing her off, but I see now you really are sick,” he said with a shrug. “Good to know.”

  “Why would I be blowing you off?” she asked, taking a step toward him.

  He didn’t move, staring straight at her. “Because of what I said earlier. About knowing things, observing things.”

  “Yeah, what was that about?”

  “I just…I think your husband is attracted to Tori,” he said with a wince. “I don’t mean for that to sound callous, and honestly, you’ve probably noticed it, too.”

  She frowned because she had. And how could she blame him? “He would never act on it, if that’s what you’re worried about. Besides that, Tori has…you. Why would she ever ruin that with Bryant?” she asked. He let out a soft laugh under his breath.

  “Well, he must be a catch to have gotten you,” he said finally. Her stomach knotted up at his words, and she was unable to meet his eyes.

  After a moment, she cracked a smile. “Was that a line?”

  “Just the truth.” He shrugged, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear.

  She swallowed, looking down and retucking the hair. “Either way, I’m not nearly as much of a catch as your wife.”

  He furrowed his brow, lifting her chin so she was forced to look at him. “I disagree.”

  She looked up from underneath her lashes, her hands shaking. “W-what do you mean?”

  “I’m just saying, look, Tori’s beautiful, no question. And she’s not a bad person. But those things alone don’t make someone a catch. You’ll see how it is once you two have been married long enough. Eventually, even someone you thought was a diamond begins to lose their shine.”